Tuesday Night is Clam Night

We've started a new summer time ritual around here: Tuesday night is clam night. The process starts with SodaBoy taking a short drive to the seafood market, a specialty shop that has all kinds of great stuff and supports the local NPR station. The clams aren't displayed in the coolers with the fish, but a simple inquiry revealed they have succulent clams hidden in the back room, two dozen for under $12. We don't live in an coastal region, but are within a day's easy drive, and seafood from the specialty shop is always delightful fresh.

We steam the clams. We eat them right in the kitchen, standing round the stove top, dipping them in bubbling butter that swims with chives from the garden, sipping white wine after every clam. The air is filled with the sounds of mmmmms and ummms; the stove and counter tops become dappled with butter drips. It is so damn good no one cares.


Then we take a brief intermission, and I take the local new potatoes off the steamer, and dump the leftover chive butter over them, and top the concoction with fresh, local parsley. The second course of potatoes is accompanied by local sweet corn and more wine, and is eaten at the dining room table, while music plays. I am not normally a big drinker, but this Tuesday night ritual just might convert me. The meal is so simple, so buttery, and so good.